


Shouldn’t Be Upset

by elysianBlessing



Category: Welcome to Night Vale, wtnv
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Carlos is not doing good friends, M/M, Self Harm, this was a venting fic tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-16 12:17:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17549543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elysianBlessing/pseuds/elysianBlessing





	Shouldn’t Be Upset

Nothing would upset Carlos.

Nothing at all.

Not even the remnants of a memory of the deaths that he should’ve been included in.

It was just illogical. To get upset over something that had happened eleven years ago.

…

God.. had it really been eleven years? Maybe it was even longer than that. He wasn’t exactly sure.

He shouldn’t be so upset over it.

He shouldn’t be so upset. Or bitter. Or angry. Or lonely.

And yet..

That’s exactly how he felt. Upset, bitter, angry, lonely..

And sad.

Especially sad.

He shouldn’t be sat on his bedroom floor, a bottle of whiskey clutched in his hand as he alternated between sobbing and drinking, just wanting for something to dull the pain.

And yet, he was.

He sat curled up in the corner of his bedroom, his hand not holding the bottle digging his nails into his opposite arm, drawing blood over and over and over, because that pain was a distraction. And it was an outlet, and it was a release.

He didn’t hear Cecil pounding on his front door, nor did he hear the small yells of his name.

Hell, he really didn’t even know Cecil was there at all until his husband stood in the bedroom doorway, a small gasp jerking Carlos from his thoughts.

He lifted his gaze, from the blood trailing down his arm, to look up, his expression turning from anger to something between guilt and horror when he realized that Cecil was watching.

How long had he been standing there? Had he been there the whole time? Why had he been so quiet?

Carlos didn’t say anything, until Cecil had scrambled over in a panic, dropping to his knees in front of the scientist with a fearful look in his eyes, gripping Carlos’ wrist and turning it a bit to look over the wounds, looking up with one, simple word.

“Why?”

He still didn’t respond, simply turning his gaze to the ground as he started to pull away, fully intending to take another drink.

“Carlos!”

Cecil spoke far louder than he ever really had, holding onto his wrist a bit tighter.

Carlos jumped at that, lifting his eyes again with a small frown, mumbling out something that vaguely resembled a “what?”

“Why?” Cecil repeats the question, shifting to sit closer to Carlos as he peers at him, looking like he might actually cry. “Why.. Why are you.. doing this to yourself, love..?”

He hesitated for a while before he replied. “Eleven years,” was all he said at first.

Cecil gave him a look of confusion, opening his mouth to reply before Carlos went on.

“Eleven years since the crash. Eleven years since they all died, and eleven years since I didn’t,” he says softly, barely acknowledging the look of recognition that crossed Cecil’s face.

“I should’ve been in that car with them,” he continued, shaking his head and closing his eyes tightly, curling his hands into fists. “I should’ve died, too. I don’t.. deserve to be here. They didn’t deserve to die. I’m not the one that should’ve lived, I should just.. die now, so that it’s somewhat right, I—“

Cecil took the bottle quickly, putting it away from the two and moving forward, resting his hands on Carlos’ shoulders. “Stop it,” he spoke softly, his expression making it obvious that Carlos talking like this was scaring him.

“Please, please stop. This.. isn’t true,” he shook his head a bit, blinking back tears. “They may.. may not have deserved to die, but you don’t either. What’s made you think you do?”

Carlos went silent at the question, his composure faltering before he pulled Cecil into a tight hug, burying his face in Cecil’s chest as he broke down into sobs, starting to shake. He didn’t really reply, not able to make himself reply.

But, then, that suggested that he knew how to reply.

He didn’t. He never did.

He didn’t know what made him feel like this. What made him think like this.

He.. didn’t know.

So, instead, he just focused on hugging Cecil; on the feeling of Cecil running his hand through Carlos’ hair. On the sound of Cecil’s voice, shushing and cooing, and promising that things would be okay.

Carlos doubted that. It just.. wasn’t a logical assumption.

But, he supposed, it was.. the best he had.

And maybe, if he heard it said enough,

He’d believe it.


End file.
